


End Game

by Queenapology



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel
Genre: Action, Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Comfort, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 22:52:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4367354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenapology/pseuds/Queenapology
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Be careful, Steve. You might not want to pull on that thread"</p><p>Steve is detirmined to get Bucky back at any cost. It seems a tall feat when Bucky isn't Bucky. By a stroke of luck and some serious long shots that all changes but soon it becomes apparent that Steve isn't the only one with an interest in how the story of Bucky turns out and that there may be more to Bucky's recovery than the power of friendship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Small Mercies

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first time I've done any writing in a while so this is more a bit of a practise for me and also my first time ever using AO3 so apologies for any mistakes. I thought I'd share it to get some feedback and see where things go. I can't promise this will be great but I hope you enjoy it.

They consider this a reward for you, not that you know it is a reward because you can’t tell the difference between what is real and what isn’t anymore. They’ve done a good job controlling you, switching off that bit of you that made you human, wiping the memories like a hard drive and only allowing you something like this when you’ve done well. You won’t remember it by the time you are needed again, they’ll snatch it away from you but for now you’ve done something right and for that you are rewarded; not that you know it’s a reward. It starts the same way as always, one moment you aren’t anything and then suddenly you somewhere, somewhere perhaps familiar in its own way, somewhere in the past. To you the transition from nothing to something is flawless and you never think for a moment how you got there, to that room or that street or that clearing in the wintery forest. You are simply there and nothing before it and nothing after it matters, all that matters is you are there. 

It’s not always the same setting but it seems they are limited in what they can offer, perhaps ripping every shred of you and who you were from this body of yours destroyed most of the memories they let you have. You don’t mind though because you don’t know that you’ve played this memory out time and time again. For you it’s new, like it’s happening right in that moment, that you’re back in that stupid dingy tent with your tooth brush hanging from your mouth and standing in nothing but your army issue slacks and a clean vest you stole from the supplies tent when your last one got ruined. You’re not alone either, sitting on one of those awful cots with the bar right in the middle is your friend supersized; Steve Rogers, Captain America, one hand holding a pencil and the other holding some paper as he stares at you. You’re saying something around the toothbrush, nothing but funny sounds coming out as you try not to spit toothpaste all over the place and stain something. 

“Come again?” He finally says in amusement. 

You stop to take the tooth brush out of your mouth and spit into the bowl under the tiny grubby mirror you both use in the mornings and any other time you might feel vanity hit you. You turn to look at him and you know by the look on his face he knew exactly what you were saying, he was just winding you up because that’s Steve for you, good old Steve, your best friend, your soul mate, the one you would go to hell and back for. You glare at him and make an inappropriate sign at him and he laughs, a sound that rings out in the cold morning air and seems to warm the make shift room. It’s a laugh that can make you happy no matter what, a laugh only you can drag from him no matter what. It’s a laugh just for you. 

“I said, just ask her out. She’s sweet on you. Trust me, I know these things Steve.” You repeat yourself as you wipe your mouth. “If you don’t I will.” 

“No you won’t.” Steve chuckles and sets the pencil and paper down on the bed a hand coming up to rub over his hairless chin in thought. 

You take a moment to watch him as you begin to smarten up for the day knowing that by the end of it you’ll either be covered in mud or blood or both. It’ll be another uniform that the army can’t afford to replace ruined and you’ll have to spend the evening fixing. You don’t mind though because at least you’re with Steve and you’re safe. You can tell Steve is thinking on it, perhaps even seriously considering it and you smile feeling accomplished. It was about time he met someone and Peggy Carter was the right girl for him. She was strong and level headed and took crap from no one. She was also as good as they came, a perfect match for a man who was as good as they came and loyal to a fault. 

“Maybe after this mission.” He finally says as he gets up to dress. 

“Why not before the mission?” You counter. 

“Because I said after.” He replies and shoves you playfully, nearly sending you through the tent. 

He’s gotten strong, big as well, he towers over you a bit now and the fights are a little fairer. He doesn’t need you to protect him which you are silently disappointed by because you liked defending him, you liked being the one to protect him but you like this Steve too, the one who was always a fighter but now more than ever could fight back. You like his confidence and that he’s happy and he’s doing what he was always meant to be doing, saving others and doing good. You like that you get to be part of it as well, you don’t mind being the sidekick, it’s less pressure and besides Steve was always meant for great things. 

“Alright, after.” You murmured, still smiling. 

He looks at you with those patriotic blue eyes, smiling back for a moment until the look lingers and you see the hesitation, like he wants to say something but holds back. You watch him and don’t mind that he watches you, that the gaze stays longer than it probably should, for what feels like an eternity and you don’t mind one bit. You could stand there all day in fact, or at least until someone calling for the both of you breaks the moment and you both forget whatever it was that got you stuck like that to begin with. 

It’s a great reward. Perhaps you wouldn’t think so if you were aware of what was really happening but it doesn’t matter because when you wake up again, the memory is gone and you don’t remember what happened or care. You don’t notice anything, not the new scars, not the new adjustments, just your commands and that you have a new mission to begin. It’s just how they want you, compliant and uncaring, unquestioning and without the burden of memories. They don’t mind rewarding you for your service at all and it’s a great reward because you don’t know it exists. 

At least not yet, you don’t. 

\--- 

_Be careful, Steve. You might not want to pull on that thread_

It had been playing in his head since that day in the cemetery and still went on in his mind even now, months on. He had considered giving up a few times but never actually did. One time He threw the file out only to go rummaging through the dumpster for it five hours later when he remembered just why he was doing this. The thing was, Bucky had always been there for him, even in death and now he needed to be there for Bucky, even if it took the rest of his days to be there for him. But still, what Natasha said played in his mind like a broken record. 

_Be careful, Steve. You might not want to pull on that thread_

_Be careful, Steve. You might not want to pull on that thread_

_Be careful, Steve. You might not want to pull on that thread_

_Be careful, Steve. You might not want to pull on that thread…  
_

For Captain Steven Rogers, this was his biggest mission. He had done a lot in his life time; hell, he’d even died technically but this would always be his biggest mission, bringing his friend home once and for all. Sure, he had been side tracked a few times and the leads had all gone cold but finding Bucky or what was left of him had always been on his mind. It kept him awake at night, it fuelled his anger and his determination to do the right thing but also crippled him, blinded him even until it became all too much and he ended up burning out either emotionally or physically. But, he couldn’t quit even if he wanted to. He wanted to see this through until the end even if it might never happen. But those words were always haunting him. 

Natasha’s words were still haunting him when Sam and him entered the bunker and found Bucky there. If anything her voice echoed in his mind louder than ever before like a warning, a siren that was almost deafening him as he stood there staring at the man he was supposed to know. 

“That’s not Bucky, you’ve gotta remember that.” Sam had said when they had gone back upstairs into the fresh air and sunlight. “Bucky might still be in there but right now, that thing looking back at you is not Bucky.” 

“I know,” Steve said, looking across the landscape, always looking out for the enemy, figuring out escape routes and cover. Once a soldier, always a soldier. “But like you said, Bucky might still be in there.” 

In fact Steve was sure Bucky was still in there. He had seen it with his own eyes right before he fell from the Helicarrier after all. It had been brief and terrifying but Bucky had been in there for a few confusing and agonising moments. It was that, and all the memories he had of his friend that had kept him going until this moment, standing face to face with the man who had once been James Barnes. That small plea for help had given Steve some hope but Sam was there to anchor him, to remind him that despite everything, this wasn’t the man he had been looking for. At least not yet he wasn’t. In truth, Steve wasn’t sure what he had been expecting when he found Bucky. If he was brutally honest he hadn’t imagined it at all and if he did, he suspected it didn’t end well. All he had thought about was finding his friend and not what would happen when he found him, where they would be or what they would be doing. Suddenly he was glad Bucky had his arm trapped in a vice because at least then he couldn’t run and he couldn’t try to kill Steve again. 

Small mercies. 

“I’ll make a call, try not to get killed while I’m gone.” Sam broke the heavy silence as if he had been reading Steve’s mind before walking off, pulling a phone from his pocket. 

Taking a breath, the soldier headed to the truck to grab a bottle before water before heading back down into the basement, the damp heat hitting him immediately and he wondered how long Bucky had been stuck down there and where had he been since they last saw each other? None of that seemed to matter as the man came into view once again trying to free his metal arm from its trap and failing. He was clearly tired because he gave up quickly, collapsing again and looking up at Steve as he came closer slowly. 

“Help me.” Bucky said in a clearer voice. 

It struck Steve then that Bucky didn’t sound like Bucky one bit. There was no charm or kindness to his voice, no confidence. It wasn’t rich and warm and carefree anymore but instead was cracked and faint like a ghost. This wasn’t Bucky. This was the Winter Soldier. Even those eyes weren’t the same, the light was practically gone from them, they were the eyes of a shell, unseeing and uncaring. 

Steve stopped a safe distance away, watching the man opposite him for a moment before kneeling to rest on his haunches. He could feel Bucky assessing him every bit as much as Steve was assessing Bucky, working out the weaknesses and strengths and assessing the risks. Steve was confident he was in the better position here, he didn’t have an arm trapped in something after all. That didn’t mean Bucky as a threat was neutralised, but at least Steve had the upper hand so to speak. Sniffing, he offered up the bottle of water as a peace offering. 

“Don’t worry, it’s just water.” He assured the man when he hesitated, relaxing when Bucky finally took it and drank it down with the thirst of a deprived man. “Better?” 

Bucky paused, wiping his mouth when half the bottle was gone, glancing at Steve before nodding and setting the bottle down. 

“Good.” Steve replied. “Who are you?” 

It seemed like a strange question to ask, perhaps even a stupid one when Steve knew who Bucky was. But he wasn’t asking for his benefit, he was asking to see just how much Bucky knew, how much of him was left, how much could be saved. Instantly he could see Bucky struggling with the question as if he had just been asked to work out some equation without any prior teaching. There was confusion and then fear and then frustration before there was resignation that the answer was beyond him. Steve saw it all because after 70 years, he still knew how to read Bucky whether or not he was a brain washed assassin. 

“I don’t know.” Bucky finally responded. 

“Your name is James Buchanan Barnes.” Steve explained slowly. “You go by Bucky most of the time.” 

The information wasn’t new to Bucky and it showed on his face but he still seemed to find it difficult to comprehend. Some part of him seemed to recognise it and relate to it but a bigger part was still fighting to be the nameless killing machine of HYDRA. 

“Do you know who I am?” Steve asked deciding to leave that subject for the time being. 

Bucky looked up again, seeming to contemplate the question before he nodded slowly. “You’re Captain Steven Roger AKA Captain America AKA member of the Avengers…” 

“No.” Steve stopped him. 

He had heard that before, at the Smithsonian exhibit. It was as every bit rehearsed as the commentary at the museum was. It was learnt, practised, memorised but it wasn’t felt or known or understood. Bucky didn’t understand it any more than he understood the difference between right and wrong right now.

“Do you _know_ who I am?” He repeated calmly.

The short answer was no. Steve could see it in Bucky's eyes as he struggled with it. The silence fell heavy with defeat and disappointment. This wasn’t going to be easy, he knew that but he had hoped there would be something there, some familiarity. At least there was some recognition, a small slither of something to work on and build on. For now though, There was no great revelations, just a shell and a chance to make things right. 

Sighing, he stood. Bucky shot up then, lunging forward. His metal arm stopped him with a bang as he fought against his trap, his cold eyes glaring at Steve. Steve watched, seeing the Winter Soldier in all his terrifying glory seethe at him. It was like seeing a lion or a tiger for the first time, watching them coil and pounce into action, teeth and claws glaring, brilliant and dangerous. 

"Help me." He hissed.

"I will." Steve replied knowing he meant it in a different way from how Bucky wanted help at the moment. "You'll see, but for now I need you to stay put." 

He turned to leave deciding that was enough for now. Any longer looking into those eyes and he was sure he would go spare with anger and resentment for the situation and perhaps even for Bucky. If he walked away now then he knew that he would be able to hold onto his hope. And yet he could still hear Natasha's voice in his head over Bucky yelling after him. 

_Be careful, Steve. You might not want to pull on that thread_

"Don't leave me here!" 

_Be careful, Steve. You might not want to pull on that thread_

"Let me out!" 

_Be careful, Steve. You might not want to pull on that thread_

"Don't leave me here!"


	2. Paris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That look had still been his eyes every time and by the fifth time of tackling Bucky’s struggling body back onto the bed, Steve had stopped looking at his face and had started pretending this wasn’t his friend but a stranger who needed to be subdued.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a quiet chapter but I'm planning on kicking things off next chapter. Again, I'm still just practising here so it's not perfect but I hope you enjoy it at least.

It had been over a week since they managed to get Bucky’s arm free and had brought him back to base. It hadn’t been easy and it hadn’t gone smoothly. Clearly Bucky, or at least this version of Bucky had other ideas when he got free and it had taken some serious physical struggling and a sedative to bring him down. Steve had figured he wouldn’t go quietly so he had prepared for it before he had gone back down into the basement and he had been smart to prepare and plan for this because sure enough, as soon as his arm was free Bucky was on him with all the rage of a caged animal. Steve had to admit he wasn’t sure if it was the Winter Soldier he was fighting with or someone else because the eyes he had stared into hadn’t been dead and cold in that moment, they had been angry and scared and it had knocked the wind from Steve sails to look into those eyes. What he had known though was it was Bucky, not his Bucky. 

But that had been over a week ago and Steve had healed from his injuries quick enough. Now he stood in the viewing gallery looking down into the medical room where Bucky was spread out on the bed. He had been sedated for four days now after all attempts to bring him around had led to some rather expensive equipment and staff being attacked. That look had still been his eyes every time and by the fifth time of tackling Bucky’s struggling body back onto the bed, Steve had stopped looking at his face and had started pretending this wasn’t his friend but a stranger who needed to be subdued. So for four days, the doctors had kept him sedated while they ran test after test to try and find out what damage had been done and what was so different about him that made him unable to remember anything. 

“You know, he isn’t going to up and leave if you look away, Cap.” Natasha’s voice broke the sterile silence as she stopped next to Steve and offered up a take away cup of coffee. “And if he did we could find him thanks to the tracker.” 

Steve sighed. He frustrated and exhausted and if he was damn honest unsure what the hell he was doing right now. He took the cup with a quiet thanks, his eyes never leaving Bucky. He let the silence settle again but he knew Natasha had plenty to say and yet she took her time to say it. She was good at this, waiting for the right time to suggest something or state the facts or her opinion. She always managed it with a calm voice and manner that made it sound like a good idea every time even if it was a terrible idea. 

“I spoke to Tony.” She finally said, seeming to hesitate for a moment. “He says he and the team are going to start the analysis of the set for iron fist there. He reckons he knows what they did and how they did it which might help figure out where to start but he says you need a doctor for the rest.” 

“He said we need Bruce.” Steve corrected, knowing full well how the conversation should have gone. 

“Yeah.” Natasha was flawless at hiding the sting of hearing that name. 

Steve sighed again and finally sipped his coffee. Creamy and sickly sweet, just how he liked it. He hadn’t slept properly since months that he was getting used to being tired all the time. Luckily he could handle it which was just as well because he had more important things to think about. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” The redhead asked finally. “He’s spent 70 years going through this. Maybe the damaged has been done and there is nothing there to salvage. Or maybe it will set him off again.” 

“Well I don’t think therapy sessions are going to cut it here this time.” Steve dead-panned and shook his head. “But the answer on how to fix him has to be in all of that stuff we found.” 

This time it was Natasha’s turn to sigh and she turned to leave, pausing for a moment to look up at the Captain. “The recovery team found something called the Reward Protocol. Tony is assessing it first and looks like that are some files kept by one of the doctors, maybe that’s a good place to start.” 

Steve couldn’t help but snort at this and shook his head a little. “I fail to see how anything could be considered a reward when you’re a prisoner of HYDRA.” 

“I don’t know. Rewards are a remarkable way of keeping people in line.” Natasha pointed out before she left. 

Alone again Steve finished his coffee and chucked it into the trash can and turned back to the viewing window again. No change. Bucky was still out cold on the bed hooked to every device possible to monitor his heart rate and brain patterns and blood pressure. He looked peaceful despite the setting, like he was finally at peace but Steve couldn’t begin to believe that inside Bucky’s head it was peaceful. It had been a long time since HYDRA had wiped him and no doubt in the months being rogue he had seen enough to simply confuse him. But then, how did Steve know? He couldn’t read minds and right now, he couldn’t even read Bucky. 

Heading down into the room, he smiled at the nurse who was on duty before he slipped into the room and sank into the seat by Bucky’s bedside. He momentarily thought about the number of times Bucky had come to visit him when he had been sick and they were just kids. It seemed so long ago and perhaps hard to believe it had been real given everything that had happened but it managed to draw a faint smile from him as he took Bucky’s hand. 

“I don’t know if you can hear me and even if you could if you’d want to hear what I have to say.” He said quietly. “But I’m going to get you through this like you used to get me through everything. You got me out of some real scrapes back in the day even after the serum. I don’t know how you did it. The number times you had to ice your hand it was amazing you were still able to use it. Got to admit, it was good having you on my side and I know things changed when I took part in the procedure but I still needed you back then and I still need you now. Because what’s a world without your best buddy by your side through thick and thin?” 

He paused, closing his eyes for a few moments as he let the invisible weight he had been carrying on his shoulders press down a little harder until that moment right before it became too much to handle before pushing back against it, steeling himself once more. He need to be strong, not just for Bucky and himself but for the team. He still had his duties, people he was responsible for and depended on him. 

Squeezing Bucky’s hand, he looked at the man’s face again, letting himself see Bucky as Bucky rather than just another person in a bed. “I need you to trust me, Buddy. I’m going to help you remember who you are but you need to trust me, okay?” 

No answer. 

Well at least it wasn’t a no. 

“Captain?” The nurse’s voice broke the silence. “It’s time for me to give him another round of sedatives.” 

He nodded and stood up slowly, giving the nurse a polite smile and headed for the door. “Can you let the doctor know I want to speak to him in the morning about easing up on the sedatives? I think it’s time we wake him up and see what we’re really dealing with.” 

“Certainly.” The nurse smiled and nodded. “Good night Captain.” 

“Good night.” Steve replied before heading to his room to try and sleep. 

\-- 

“No! No way!” 

“We can’t keep him drugged up forever.” 

“Yeah we can or at least until we have all the facts! Do you not remember he tried to kill you more than once?” 

“Sam, you’re overreacting.” 

The look on Sam’s face said it all. He didn’t think he was overreacting and maybe he hadn’t been but Steve had his mind set on this and he wasn’t going to compromise. Keeping Bucky sedated was simply managing the problem in an easy and convenient way. It wasn’t doing what they had promised they would do and help him. They couldn’t be naïve and believe that this was going to be easy or if to begin with Bucky would accept their help and wouldn’t resist it for a while. 

“He asked for our help. I need to help him and right now all we are doing is keeping him prisoner because we’re too scared to deal with him.” Steve finally said when Sam chose not to speak again. “We’ll start slow, just ease up enough so we can talk to him and then hopefully Tony will be back with us soon with what he’s found and we can then figure out how exactly we’re going to fix seventy years of torture.” 

Sam sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. The way his shoulders dropped told Steve that he was agreeing to go ahead with it. Steve couldn’t help but smile at this but made sure the smile was gone when Sam looked up again. 

“Alright, but the minute he tries to go psycho on us again, he’s back under and staying there.” Sam practically demanded. 

“Deal.” Steve nodded. “You know, I’m glad you agreed because it would be really awkward when I told you that the doctors have already begun reversing the sedatives.” 

The look on Sam’s face was priceless. 

\-- 

Something is different this time when you wake up. Before, when you woke, it had been like someone turning on a light on inside. One moment you were off and now then you were on and you knew what you had to do. You never questioned it, you just got on with it and when it was all done, you turned off again and it was darkness or at least that is what you assume. Then of course there has been the past few months where you’ve tried to turn off again but instead what you get is a troubled sleep that is short and fleeting and no kinder to you than the waking day. You hated that the most and you remember it well, part of you fighting with the memories that never made sense and another part of you fighting to remember more vividly. 

You never remembered. 

This time it is different though, the darkness you were in was safe and warm and even if you wanted to get out of it you couldn’t. You don’t remember much about it except that you want to stay there and you hate that it’s leaving you and soon, the silence was no longer silence but filled with soft noises and beeps from machines. You don’t like this new feeling that comes with leaving the cocoon of silence and warmth, soon your head beings to swirl and you are aware of your limbs, how jelly like they are and how heavy the prosthetic is, that you can’t lift it and it doesn’t respond to your neuro commands. You feel helpless but your mind is too foggy to panic against it and even then, you don’t do panic, just assessing. 

_Status?  
_

_Function minimal  
_

_Are you injured?  
_

_No injuries detected  
_

_Mobility level?_

_Impaired.  
_

_Summary?  
_

_Drugged. I have been drugged.  
_

You open your eyes to meet white stucco panelling above you and sterile light coming from somewhere. Something beeps somewhere sharply twice before silence falls again save for the hum of electricity all around you, the whole room buzzing with it and you feel the blast of cool air on your bare skin and the crisp scratch of the sheets covering your legs and stomach. Despite all of this though you feel clean, perhaps not in your head which fogged by whatever they have given you and your arm stings around the prosthetic for some reason but you feel clean, like you have been floating in cool clear water and washing away the dirt and sins of the past few months and whatever was before that… 

“Hey Bucky,” That familiar voice breaks you away from your thoughts and your eyes shift from the ceiling to see that clean cut face hovering above you. _  
_

_“Hey Bucky, Are you going to get up some time today or what?”  
_

_“Oh come on Steve, it’s my day off and this is the first time I’ve slept in a real bed with real sheets in over a year.”  
_

_“I thought you wanted to explore Paris for a bit though?”  
_

_“Maybe tomorrow.” You grin sheepishly.  
_

_“Alright, Alright.” Steve chuckles and the bed dips as he crawls back onto it slowly and you feel his hand on your back. “Let’s stay here for today.”_

“Hey Bucky, can you hear me?” 

You breathe in sharply and realise your mouth is dry and feel like it’s full of sand. You a bring a hand up clumsily to try and signal for water before you feel the hard coolness of a glass touch your lips and water floods your mouth like sweet relief. You don’t think you have ever wanted water quite like you have wanted it now and your mouth forgets how to work as your body feels like its crying out in joy. 

“Take it easy,” He soothes when you nearly choke and takes the glass away, a hand coming to dap away the water from your chin. “You’re alright. You’re safe now.” 

You look at him; Steve Rogers, Captain Steve Rogers. They had wanted you to kill him; that you remember. But you hadn’t done it, you couldn’t do it. The mission had failed and you had no one to report back to, no one to receive further orders from. You are alone and have no way of explaining to this man that you need a new mission. You need to succeed. 

“Where am I?” You ask quietly. 

“Safe, we’ve got the best doctors working on you to get you back on your feet.” 

“Am I injured?” You don’t feel injured. 

“No, you’re not injured.” Steve smiles. 

“You drugged me.” 

“You tried to kill me.” 

You purse your lips at this but don’t react. You had tried to kill him but you had failed every time and now, you don’t think you should be trying that anymore. The mission has failed, you have been compromised and there is no one to report back to. You need a new mission, you need a new purpose otherwise there is no point for your existence. 

“Just rest for now,” Steve finally says when you remain silent. “Then we’ll start.” 

“Start what?” You ask suspiciously. 

“Your recovery.” 

“But you said I am not injured.” 

He smiles as he gets up and you feel his hand on your arm and it’s familiar and something clicks in your mind and you trust him as if you have trusted him all your life. 

“You’re not. But wounds are sometimes more than physical afflictions.” He says and then he’s gone and you’re alone again without a mission and a head full of sedatives.


	3. Purpose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are certain you haven't been left this inactive whilst conscious in a long time and you begin to wonder if he has decided he doesn't want to help you or if perhaps this them locking you away to be forgotten.

Steve firmly believed his gamble was going to pay off. 

The doctors agreed to ease up on the sedatives slowly all the while Steve was right by Bucky's side to ease him back into reality. The soldier seemed to cope well with it this time but Steve was painfully aware of how robotic Bucky sounded, how he had no emotion and that everything was an assessment of a status report. One thing he also noticed was Bucky seemed to react without hesitation to commands. 

He had noticed it at first when a doctor asked him to sit up so he could check his heart beat and breathing. At first he assumed Bucky was finally being a model patient, perhaps the four days sedated had really been enough to calm the man down but then the same doctor asked him to undress to assess the new stitches around the prosthetic and Bucky responded without so much as a blink of an eye, Steve suspected there was more to it. It was certainly something he wanted to test on his own terms but had to be put on the back burner when a new mission came in. 

Bucky had been settled into his new quarters equipped with self-locking doors when Steve was pulled away on mission with Sam and Clint. He hadn't wanted to go not when he felt he was finally getting somewhere with Bucky but he had made a vow to protect humanity against evil and right now that evil was knocking on the door. He suspected Bucky wouldn't even notice him gone. Since the move Bucky had simply sat on the edge of his bed waiting patiently for what Steve assumed was his next order to accomplish. 

It was well past midnight when they finally started making the journey back home. They had succeeding in what they needed to do but not without a few battle wounds. Steve had suffered a few broken ribs and a split lip while Sam was nursing a broken hand. Only Clint seemed to have gotten away without being wounded but that wasn't to say he wouldn't be feeling a bad case of DOMS in the morning. Despite it though, there was a calm, something Steve was sure he hadn't felt in a long time. The weight on his shoulders seemed to ease a little and he even found himself smiling and even laughing at a few of Sam's terrible jokes. 

"I hear you decided to let him out." Clint spoke up when they were properly in the air. 

"Bucky, his name is Bucky." Steve replied. 

Not yet it isn't." Clint pointed out. He was silent for a few moments, resting his head back as if trying to make himself comfortable. "The change of scenery will help. No one likes being in hospital especially when you're a soldier. I can't say I blame him for getting pissed off a few times." 

Steve snorted at this and found himself chuckling.

“What?" Clint asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I think you're the first person who has probably seen it from his side of tried to."

"Well," Clint shrugged a little and shifted. "I'm just saying if I was a super soldier with a metal arm and trying to find out my past I'd be pretty hacked off as well especially if you kept sedating me."

Steve nodded a little. He had felt guilty about it but what could they do? Bucky was a highly trained assassin, a killing machine who could put anyone out of business and was clearly scared and confused even if it wasn't the real Bucky that was in complete control. Either way, something had initially been driving Bucky to lash out but that has simmered for now, hopefully.

"Just a word of advice," Clint broke the silence again. "Don't let this consume you. He needs you to keep a level head and you can't do that if it's all you're focused on. Sometimes you need to step away and let others help. You can't be his friend, doctor and saviour all in one go."

They were words that stuck with Steve even when they got back to base and all went their separate ways. Steve hadn't thought much about who he could be for Bucky just that he would be there, encouraging him to remember. Until Tony came up with some answers from the lab they had found, Steve was literally going in blind and hoping if he said it enough times Bucky would start believing him. It wasn't like in the past when he would like to try and stop Bucky from worrying but Bucky just saw through it every time.

_"Why do you even try lying to me? I see right through it every time."_

_"Because I don't want you to worry."_

_"Steve, you're my best friend. I'm always going to worry about you."  
_

_"Yeah but you shouldn't have to. I can take care of myself."  
_

_"I know you can buddy but who ever said having a little backup would hurt?"_

It seemed a little ironic that now of all times Steve felt like he needed a little back up and yet the one person he needed back up from was the same people he needed the back up to deal with. 

He hoped Tony had some answers soon. 

Part of him wanted to go to Bucky and see how he was but Clint’s words rang in his mind clearly and after hesitating, he forced him to his own quarters to shower and get something to eat. Bucky might be asleep, it was still too early to be awake and he probably wouldn’t appreciate being woken up just so Steve could quell his curiosity. Still, the pull was there, the longing, the yearning to sneak into Bucky’s room and curl up into bed with and pretend it was 1939 and they hadn’t gone to war yet. It was difficult to ignore and yet Steve still found himself trying to deny it to himself. Lord only knew what others would think if they knew of that urge, what impact it might have on how Bucky’s treatment was planned and executed. What if everyone mistook Steve’s need to fix Bucky as something else and prevented it? What if they suddenly didn’t see the best course of action as helping Bucky remember but rather containing him like a problem? 

The shower did little to quell Steve frantic mind. The water was scorching despite it being a warm night. Steve barely noticed how red his skin became or how the water made his eyelids and scalp sting as he stood under the spray. By the time he finally pulled himself away from what he had hoped would be a cleansing shower, the room was so full of steam it was difficult to breathe. By this point he was certain sleep wasn’t going to help any either, not that he would sleep. He wished he could just switch off but the soothing darkness of slumber had been evading him for months now and he doubted tonight would be any better. 

Stepping back into his bedroom, he flipped a lamp on as he dried his hair, jumping a mile and nearly grabbing for something dangerous when he saw someone sitting in his room. 

“Oh hey handsome, did I scare you?” Natasha spoke up with a cheeky smirk on her lips and devilish twinkle in her eyes. “Oh don’t be shy, Cap. It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before.” 

“What are you doing here, Natasha?” Steve asked as he let his guard down again and moved to his wardrobe for something to wear. 

“Well Tony’s been trying to call you and when that didn’t work he called me so naturally I had to call you and when you didn’t answer I came to find you.” Natasha shrugged, shifting to get comfortable in the arm chair. “Tony reckons he’s pulled enough information and clues from all that junk he’s been playing around with to figure out to make old iron fist work like a real boy again.” 

Steve couldn’t help but cast Natasha an unimpressed look at her choice of words.

“Well it’s true Cap,” Natasha pointed out bluntly. “He isn’t Bucky and I don’t think he’s the winter solider anymore either. Whatever happened during the take down of HYDRA has left him anything but complete.” 

“Think Tony is up for talking now?” Steve asked, choosing to ignore the analysis of his friend. 

Natasha shook her head as she got up. “I wouldn’t call him now, he’s in a bad mood. I think one of his toys got broken. Give him a few hours and then give him a call. I’m sure he’ll be happy to hear your voice.” 

He let Natasha go without another words, sighing heavily as he pulled on his t-shirt and sank onto his bed. Finally some good news in all of this mess. 

\-- 

Tony was still in a foul mood when Steve made a call to him. Despite this, Steve was still able to find out what Tony had learnt so far. 

“It’s brain washing.” Tony put it simply. “Good old fashioned brain washing. You know? Being forced to sit in a room for hours without any food or water and being forced to watch images. Then there is what I think is meant to be electro-shock therapy but on a horrific level, I mean it’s any wonder your boy wonder there isn’t a drooling turnip, Cap.” 

“Torture and brain washing.” Steve sighed. “We already knew this bit, tell me how to reverse it.” 

“I’m not sure you can but one of the doctors who worked on him kept some seriously detailed logs. There are more protocols here than there is for neuro surgery. They wiped him clean and built him into something new but they didn’t delete James Barnes completely. According to one entry, they turned him into a cover. He has no idea that when he is pretending to be Bucky Barnes, he’s being himself. I think the answer is breaking down the wall they built up by brain washing him so much.” 

“Hypnotherapy?” Steve suggested only to receive a snort as a response. “Okay then, what?” 

“Something stronger.” Tony replied. “We’re talking seventy years of this crap. I just so happen to know someone who has worked with soldiers with PTSD and victims of brainwashing. I’ve actually already sent him an email and he should be there tomorrow.” 

“Thanks, Tony. I really appreciate it.” 

“No problem but look, Cap,” Tony paused and Steve could hear the hesitation in his voice and in the pause before he continued. “Seventy years is a long time to be trapped inside your own head and unable to control anything you do. What comes out of this might not be better than what you’ve already got.” 

“Not a chance.” Steve replied grimly. “Nothing is better than having Bucky back.” 

\-- 

You had been expecting him to come to see you like he has been doing since they eased up on the sedatives so when he doesn't you're confused. 

Since being moved to your new quarters you haven't done anything except sit and wait for him to come back and tell you what to do. Everyone tries to make you feel comfortable, bringing you meals are regular times, the doctors and nurses talking to you as they examine you. The red headed woman comes a couple times and sits opposite you but says nothing but he doesn’t come to see you. For you, he is your new handler, someone to take orders from and accomplish and yet you still feel unsure of him despite how familiar he is beginning to feel. It's as if he is a part of you, not in a bloodline kind of way but certainly in a way that makes it so that his voice and his eyes stir something in you like a memory you just can't grasp. It shifts like a coiled snaked in the darkness of your mind only to evaporate the moment you focus on it and it's lost in the fog and the constant waiting for a few order. 

Still, he doesn't come and still you sit there waiting for guidance, a protocol to be unlocked or a command to be given, anything to give you purpose for a few brief moments. You are certain you haven't been left this inactive whilst conscious in a long time and you begin to wonder if he has decided he doesn't want to help you or if perhaps this them locking you away to be forgotten. 

Just as you begin to mentally work out a plan of escape the door finally opens with a soft electronic click of the lock. You hear the sharp click of heels and you instantly realise that it isn't him. You feel a sense of disappointment, something you have only ever felt when failing a mission but this isn't a failed mission. You're not sure what this is. 

As you suspected, it isn't him but in fact a woman who appears to be a doctor. You've not seen her before, you recognize everyone you've encountered but she is new and something deep inside of you doesn't trust her despite her friendly smile. 

"Good morning Mr Barnes, I know it's early but I wanted to run a few tests." She greeted him. "Please can you hold out your arms." 

It's a request, an order and without thinking you do it, both arms coming out to let her exam. You assume she has come to inspect the work done by the surgeons around your prosthetic. Apparently you did more harm than you thought when you tried pulling it free from the vice you got stuck in and were on the way to tearing it off completely. You can't say you would have minded but you have learnt already the prosthetic is pretty well attached and it coming off could have serious implications to your health and living status. 

You're so busy thinking on that that you don't notice her fingers locating a hidden port on the inside of your elbow and connect something in. Instantly you feel the sharp burst of electricity shoot into your spine and into your brain locking you up before a humming fills your ears. Your mind goes blank like a rebooting computer, waiting to load up once more when the command is given. 

"Initiating sleeper cell protocol" you hear her say in Russian. 

Nothing happens for a moment and then you feel it, that familiar feeling when you always got when it was time for a new mission. It's terrifying and yet it's purpose. 

"Asset acquired and ready for new status." She mutters mostly to herself before looking at you with dark eyes. "Asset, you are to infiltrate the target until such time that your secondary protocol is activated. Your goal is to maintain cover by any means necessary. Do you understand, Asset?" 

"Yes." You reply automatically in Russian and it all makes perfect sense to you. "State the target." 

"Captain Steven Rogers. Agent Natasha Romanov. Agent Clint Barton. Mr Tony Stark. Agent Maria Hill. Agent Sharon Carter. Director Nick Fury. Pararescueman Sam Wilson. Sargent James Barnes." 

You look to her at this but don't question it. You know your targets, one of which you have to take on the identity of. 

"State the secondary protocol." You finally say when she is satisfied you have understood the objective. 

"Secondary protocol is End Game." She replies calmly. "The activation word is Freedom. Confirm your compliance, Asset." 

"I will comply." You say without thought and feel something else give and set but burrow deep into your mind, away from everything else like a forgotten memory waiting to be discovered. 

"Good." She smiles and leans in to remove the cable from your arm which has been linked to the tablet in her hands the whole time but before she does though, she leaves you with a gift. An incentive. A way of hiding what is to come. "Initiate the Reward protocol when I am gone. Tell no one of this meeting. You are to assume your base identity when it's triggered by your treatment. Do you understand?" 

"Yes." 

The moment the jack is pulled, the humming in your ears stops and you look to the doctor again. You don't realise what has passed, you simply look at her confused as to why he isn't here. 

"Everything is looking great James. You should rest." She tells you with a kind smile and leaves, the door opening and closing with a soft electronic click. 

Suddenly rests sounds like a good idea and you realise he isn't coming to see you like he usually does. You may as well rest while you wait. So, you settle yourself into the bed, muscles stiff from being sat in the same position for so long and the moment you close your eyes you begin to dream and you feel a sense of familiarity once again. But when you wake again you don't remember any of it, you don't remember the doctor or the dream or the protocol. You wake to find yourself alone and once again waiting for him to come and see you.


	4. Therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a naïve thought process and Steve knew that as well, he knew that despite everything they had been through before Bucky’s fall, whatever HYDRA had done to him was much stronger and much fresher and ran deep like poison.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my apologies for my slowness, seems every time I tried to find some time to write things ended up getting in the way. I was toying with this being the next chapter or another chapter I had in mind but this one coming first makes more sense now. Anyway, enjoy!

Doctor Anderson Leighton wasn’t what Steve had been expecting. In truth he wasn’t sure what he had been expecting but this hadn’t been it. Anderson was in his forties, with sharp features and but kind blue eyes and a sprinkling of silver in his brown hair. He was ex-military, something Steve could tell by the way he walked and moved before he confessed it as part of his history but had given it up to work in psychology or more specifically with victims of PTSD and psychological control. It had surprised Steve how common both were these days what with the horrors of war but also the cruelty of man. Anderson confessed to his own struggles with adapting to civilian life after leaving the forces. Steve wasn’t sure if it was meant to make Steve trust him more but there was something in his eyes, something wise and patient that Steve accepted and so he let the idea of Anderson treating Bucky become reality. 

“I won’t lie, your friend is a very unique case.” Anderson commented as they discussed the situation. “Seventy years as a long time to be a POW not to mention suffering what I can only imagine is an extensive degree of psychological manipulation.” 

“I’m not sure you can call it that, Doc.” Steve replied. “It’s more like they wiped him and put something else in his place.” 

“You can’t wipe a person’s memory to the point that they are completely gone.” Anderson countered. “Even if a person had amnesia, they will always have characteristics of themselves, they just won’t have the memories and they can be recovered to a degree. I believe your friend is in there but he’s buried deep inside and we just need to dig him out. Tony was kind enough to send me what he found when he was doing his research. It made for some quite interesting reading but there were some useful things to take from it which is going to help throughout this process. It won’t be easy though, I suspect there is a lot to get through but I’m confident with the right encouragement and programme we can get your friend back.” 

It was enough for now and Steve felt himself settle a little. Finally, they had a way of getting Bucky better. Steve secretly knew that he had hoped things would be easier, that Bucky would start to remember on his own but it was very clear that wasn’t going to happen. It was a naïve thought process and Steve knew that as well, he knew that despite everything they had been through before Bucky’s fall, whatever HYDRA had done to him was much stronger and much fresher and ran deep like poison. Anderson seemed to know what to do though or at least had a good idea and since Steve was out of ideas he had to put his faith in Anderson and perhaps Bucky as well. 

“We can start this evening,” Anderson spoke again when Steve didn’t say anything. “Until then, if it’s okay with you, I’d like to go over the medical files you guys have to see if there is anything I’m missing.” 

“Sure,” Steve smiled a little. “Whatever you need.” 

Leaving Anderson to pour over his files and research, Steve decided it was time to go and see Bucky. He hadn’t seen him since before he left for his last mission but he doubted Bucky had noticed. Why he had left it this long Steve wasn’t sure. He tried not to question it but deep down he suspected it was because he was feeling the agony of not having his friend as he remembered him. It was foolish, he knew that. There was no logical reason that Bucky would be like he once was after all this time, too much had happened and even Steve knew he wasn’t the same after being on ice for seventy years. But seeing him, being able to touch him and hear his voice made him want the old days again, the ones when they were still fresh faced and hadn’t yet been beaten down by so much evil and agony. But, he also had to remember this might not be Bucky, it could be the Winter Soldier or neither of them and now was something else entirely. 

Bucky’s rooms weren’t a cell or anything like the medical room he had been in for the first week but they were closely monitored with a nurse and security outside the first set of doors. Bucky wasn’t a prisoner but him going anywhere wasn’t an option. 

“Hello Captain.” The nurse smiled when Steve approached. 

“How is he?” 

The nurse faltered for a moment. “He’s not moved.” 

Steve nodded softly. “Can you open the door, I think I’ll spend a bit of time with him and see if I can get him to move around a bit.” 

“Of course, Captain.” 

The door opened with an electronic hiss and Steve felt the cool air hit him. There was nothing personal about the room, it was stark and sterile. There were no photos of pin up girls on the wall or clothes strewn about. There was no writing desk full of papers and littered with unopened bills. There was just a bed and a few chairs. Steve bet if he looked in the wardrobe there would be nothing there and that the bathroom would lack any personal touches like Bucky's favourite cologne or even a razor blade. It was like a hotel room and a airport all in one, space occupied but neither here nor there. It was meaningless and never truly owned. 

Sure enough Bucky was sat on the edge of the bed where Steve had left him. He wondered if he had really been sat there all this time but that just wasn't physically possible. At some point Bucky would need to sleep or use the bathroom or get the blood going to his limbs. But it appeared Bucky had never moved, that he had been frozen in time waiting for someone to click play and get him going again. Steve moved to sit opposite him on one of the chairs, feeling those intense eyes on him before he even looked up. They had cleaned him up a little, the beard was gone and his hair was cleaner but all they had done with the length was pull it into a bun so it was out of his face more. He didn't look like Bucky one bit in all honesty, sure the face was the same but that need to look clean and tidy was gone and the light in his eyes had all but died out. This was the Winter Soldier or something else, this wasn't Bucky. 

"Sorry I haven't stopped by until now." Steve finally said, watching Bucky but saw no recognition or acknowledgment. "How have you been?" 

"Fine." Bucky replied quietly. "I have been waiting for you." 

Steve sighed at this but there was a flicker in his gut, a tightening in his chest as he felt himself caught off guard for just a moment. Bucky didn't mean it the way Steve wanted him to mean it but it was a start he supposed. 

"There is a doctor here who thinks he can help." Steve finally said. "He's good with memories and trauma. He reckons he might be able to help you remember who you really are." 

"And what about the other memories?" Bucky asked. "What if I don't want to remember them?" 

"I don't think it works like that. You have to remember them all to remember who you are." 

Bucky frowned slightly at this and for a moment he looked past Steve in thought, his eyes darkening as he considered his options and what it all meant. Even now, practically a robot, some things about Bucky hadn’t changed but those were few and far between. There weren’t enough of them for Steve to believe Bucky could remember on his own and even then, Bucky had been MIA for months after the fall of HYDRA and he hadn’t remembered anything in that time or he wasn’t letting on he had. 

“It’s all or nothing, buddy.” Steve said. 

“All or nothing.” Bucky echoed and gave a small nod in acknowledgement and hopefully acceptance. 

“He wants to see you tonight.” Steve smiled a little. 

“So soon?” 

“Technically it’s been seventy years.” 

Bucky seemed to ponder on this and take stock of what that really meant. For Steve it had all happened in a blink of an eye but for Bucky it had been seven decades of being a slave to an organisation that had used him as a way of dealing with people they didn’t want around or threatened their cause. But then, if Bucky remembered none of it then it was likely to be a blink of the eye for him as well. 

“You should eat and maybe rest. I suspect it’s going to be a long evening. I’ll get the nurse to bring you something to eat, okay?” Steve stood slowly with this. 

“Could you not stay?” Bucky asked as he watched Steve stand. 

It was a question that caught Steve by surprise and he looked down at the other man for a moment. Part of him desperately wanted to stay but another part of him, a stronger part of him told him it wasn’t a good idea. Bucky wasn’t ready for anything their conversations would lead to and Bucky needed Steve to be strong to get him through this. He couldn’t do that if he was giving in to old feelings. 

“I’ll be back this evening.” He said quietly and gave Bucky’s shoulder a squeeze before he left. 

\-- 

As promised Dr. Anderson was ready to begin that evening. Steve wanted to attend but the doctor had explained it would only confuse Bucky more as he tried to break past the wall built by HYDRA. In truth Steve suspected that it was just as much for Steve’s sake as it was for Bucky’s. Logically Steve knew it would take time for Bucky to remember everything but deep down he prayed Bucky would remember who he was straight away and things could finally begin to return to normal or some level of it. So he stayed out but stayed close sitting outside the room in case something happened and he was needed. 

“Hypnotherapy is sort of like what Bucky’s been through already but a much more peaceful way. Most victims of this kind of torture remember what has happened to them and who they were before it happened but the issue here is Bucky doesn’t remember anything so I need to help him remember something of who he was to use as an anchor. I can’t promise what he remembers will be good though.” Anderson explained as they walked. “But it’s something to build on.” 

“So long as he starts to remember who he is, anything is better than nothing.” Steve replied, stopping at the door to Bucky’s room. 

“I can’t promise anything tonight and he’s likely to be tired after this session, too tired to really talk.” Anderson explained before he disappeared inside. 

That had been forty-five minutes ago and so far there hadn’t been a sound. Steve sat there waiting though aware of every minute that past. He had gotten good at controlling his patience, he had gotten good at a lot of things since the serum but he had never been good at grieving for Bucky. Through everything he had always put those feelings to the side, even when he learnt Bucky was alive but almost changed beyond recognition. Then he had spent every moment after that hunting the man down and when he finally found him, he busied himself trying to get him help and even now, sitting here, he was thinking out what needed to be done next. 

Without warning the alarm broke the silence, a harsh repetitive sound that blasted out warning all those who could hear it that something was wrong. Steve was off his seat immediately, his head snapping up to see the warning light above Bucky’s door flashing. Immediately he was at the door, using his pass to open it. The first thing to him was the screaming, a pained, panicked sound that pierced the air. Steve didn’t need to look around the corner into the bedroom to know it was Bucky screaming, his agony resonating from him and against the walls. He found both doctor and patient exactly where he thought they’d be. Anderson was trying to calm Bucky down while Bucky, shredding his throat to hell screaming, was doubled over, his hands over his ears. 

“What happened?” Steve asked. 

“I don’t know. One moment he was talking and then he began screaming.” Anderson replied. “It’s like a switch flipped.” 

Steve pushed past Anderson to get to his friend, grabbing the man by his shoulders to try and get him to face him. “Bucky talk to me. Bucky, what’s wrong?” 

Despite the ear piercing sound it was as if Bucky was stuck, that he had malfunctioned and wasn’t able to break out of the cycle he was in at the moment, the one where he seemed to be reliving something horrible and grotesque. Whatever it was didn’t want to stop either and it was as if Bucky couldn’t see or hear anything except what was in his head. So Steve did the only thing he could think of to snap Bucky out of this; he punched him. 

Bucky’s snapped around with the force and he stumbled. The scream stopped almost immediately and silence fell into the room save for the alarms outside. Bucky stayed hunched over, unmoving. 

“Bucky?” Steve spoke up, carefully teaching out to touch the man’s shoulder. “Hey…” 

“I remember.” Bucky spoke up, lifting his head to look at Steve, his lip split and blood trickling down his chin. “I remember everything.” 


	5. Zola

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After that they started the treatments again and soon you forgot all about Steve and the dreams. Instead they rewarded you with protocols that you wouldn’t remember afterwards.

When you first woke, you didn’t remember who you were much less where you were. The scent of disinfectant and the white ceiling suggested to you that you were in hospital. You vaguely remembered the fall and the sheer panic you felt when it happened but everything else seemed fragmented to you as if none of it fit or belonged to you anymore. Names sat on the tip of your tongue and memories flittered in the shadows of your mind like moths caught in a well but nothing stuck. You knew you had been at war and you knew you should have been dead but instead you found yourself in hospital without an arm or an identity. 

It was sometime after the surgery that they let you wake up enough to focus on the things around you and let your mind be yours a little bit. By now they had attached the metal arm to you but it felt heavy and unnatural and seemed only to react to your anger and fear. Every time one of the doctors came near you, you lashed out with animalist rage unable to understand what had happened to you and who you were. 

And then he appeared. The small man with the ruddy features and the glasses. He soothed you with a kind voice and his small hands clasping your real hand to settle you. You thought you knew him, that you had met before in a different life but you couldn’t place the familiarity with a memory. Never the less, you let yourself trust his kindness and his wisdom. For you, he would become your friend, your ally, the one to follow and obey because he promised he would protect you. 

And in a way he did, this Doctor, this Zola. After your first treatment, when your brain was bruised and you hurt all over from the seizures, he came to sit at your bedside, reading to you. You would watch him and he would watch over you, dabbing your forehead when the fever hit and cleaning your face and hands with such gentle strokes. 

Soon the treatments became easier to withstand and each time Zola was there to speak to you, to read to you and to encourage you to survive this, to become the something they wanted you to be. Sometimes he would take you out for fresh air and let you sit for a while. There was never anything there except trees and mountains for miles around but you didn’t mind. It was peaceful unlike the treatments which were violent and exhausting. He would sit with you as well and give you toffees or boiled sweets which you enjoyed trying. He taught you Russian and German while you practised using your new arm and praised you when you finally mastered it so it was part of you. 

“Who am I?” You asked him one day. 

“You’re someone very special.” He told you with a small smile. “You’re going to do great things.” 

When they began training you, the dreams started. You didn’t remember everything but you remembered the man, the one with patriotic blue eyes and the heart of gold. You remembered how he would smile at you and how he would call you Bucky. Sometimes you remembered how he felt when he embraced you and you cried from the agony of not understanding and not knowing why he made you feel like he did. They tried to calm you without Zola being there but it never worked and when he found out how they used a cattle prod to subdue you, he had them shot in front of you. 

“This is what will happen to anyone who dares to hurt you.” He told you afterwards as you stared into the eyes of one of the men splayed out on the floor. “You are not an animal to be mistreated, you are special. You are one of a kind.” 

“Who is Steve?” You asked him one day when he tended to one of you battle wounds. 

He never faltered in his work when you asked him but you saw a sadness in his eyes. “Steve was your friend. He loved you very much.” 

“Where is he now?” You asked. 

“He died ten years ago.” Zola told you and you realised suddenly that he looked a lot older and tired. “He died a hero.” 

After that they started the treatments again and soon you forgot all about Steve and the dreams. Instead they rewarded you with protocols that you wouldn’t remember afterwards. Eventually all you came to remember was Zola and what he told you. Nothing else mattered either, you didn’t care who you were and who you had been. You didn’t remember the things they made you do so you didn’t care about that either. You never questioned why you sometimes had knife wounds or burns or gunshot wounds or where they came from. They always healed quickly and it was always Zola who took care of you. 

One day he stopped coming. 

At first you didn’t notice because time past so quickly when you were frozen and wiped and because it was all happening so quickly as well but eventually you noticed how it wasn’t him that would greet you when you woke up or tended to your battle wounds or took you for your treatments. You asked for him but they never answered, not straight away but you could tell from the look in their eyes that they were hiding something and didn’t know how to respond. Eventually they sent a man in to talk to you. He was very young, he couldn’t be any older than thirty but seemed highly respected by anyone who saw him and he seemed to be the only one brave enough to tell you the truth. 

“Hello, my name is Alexander Pierce.” He told you when he came to sit with you. 

“Where is Dr. Zola?” You asked him. 

“I’m afraid he died.” Alexander told you. “But he is watching over you always, He made sure that you always had him.” 

“How?” 

“He was old and with his age his health began to fail him. He knew he was dying but didn’t want you to worry.” 

You wanted to grieve but didn’t know how and they wouldn’t let you anyway. In fear that this news would consume you, they put you through a course of treatment that was painful and blinding until finally, like with Steve, they made you forget Zola and after that nothing mattered at all, you didn’t feel a thing and you remembered nothing and that’s when you became theirs completely. 

\-- 

It had been three hours since Bucky had announced he remembered who he was and since then, Bucky had been surrounded by doctors with Anderson close by to ask questions. All Steve could do was look on, letting the doctors do their job and Anderson figure out just how much Bucky really remembered. He didn’t notice Natasha come in at first until she was standing next to him watching the activity in the medical room. No doubt Natasha was thinking the same thing as Steve; Bucky remembering everything was unusually fast. Well, that was on the basis that Bucky had been correct and he did remember everything but what was everything? Did he only remember who he was as Bucky or did he remember his time as the Winter Soldier? 

“He seems to be taking it well for someone who’s just got his memory back in one night.” Natasha finally said as they watched Anderson talking to Bucky as the doctors finished up. “Doctor Leighton must be dead proud of himself.” 

Steve’s already permanent frown only deepened at this but he didn’t look at Natasha despite feeling his eyes on him. “We don’t know if it worked.” 

“Well old iron fist seems to think it has otherwise why would he say he remembered everything?” Natasha pointed out. “Seems a little easy though, I mean HYDRA was many things but they weren’t easy so how do you think the doc managed to break through several decades of brain washing and torture?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Same, which is why I think we need to approach this with caution. It could be a trap.” 

“A trap?” Steve finally looked at Natasha with this. 

The redhead nodded softly at this before turning her gaze back to the scene before them. “What if it’s the Winter Soldier trying to trick us into letting him out?” 

“You’re asking a lot of questions tonight.” Steve replied with a change of subject. 

“Well, someone has to.” Natasha shrugged before she left just as Anderson motioned for Steve to come in. 

“He wants to see you.” Anderson explained having met Steve at the door. “He’s a little tired and sore in the head but he’s adamant that he sees you.” 

“Is he…” Steve wasn’t sure how to ask if Bucky was really Bucky. “Okay?” 

“Hard to say, he’s not being particularly forthcoming with conversation.” Anderson shrugged. 

The doctors left with Anderson to give the two men some privacy and no doubt to run through the data from the tests they had spent the evening doing. That left Steve and Bucky in an exhausted silence that was tight with tension and uncertainty. Steve found himself hesitating as he thought about what to say or do or believe. Bucky had said he remembered everything but how much did he really remember? Memories were one thing but emotions were something else entirely. Bucky hadn’t been himself for a very long time, it might be that the emotions that had once made him the way he had once been were gone. 

“Hey Buddy,” Steve spoke up quietly as he slowly moved closer to Bucky, sitting down opposite him. “What a night, huh?” 

It dawned on Steve then that the years as an assassin had changed Bucky in a few ways. He was bulkier than before, not by much but his right arm had clearly been strengthened to match the power of his left arm. For Steve, Bucky had always been taller, stronger, and healthier so when they were reunited after the serum Steve often struggled with the change in statures. It took him a while to remember that Bucky wasn’t the tall strong one anymore. Even now Bucky was a little smaller but with the way he was sitting he looked tiny, fragile, exhausted. 

“Who are you?” He finally asked in a quiet voice. 

Blue eyes lifted to meet his and he could see the sadness and the agony in them. There was a storm in Bucky’s soul but above all else there was recognition. 

“I know who I am.” Bucky finally said in a dull voice. “I remember everything.” 

“Do you? Then who I am?” 

Bucky was silent but this time, unlike the time in the bunker where they had rescued him from, he wasn’t struggling with the question because he didn’t know the answer but rather because he knew the answer painfully well. 

“You’re my best friend.” Bucky murmured softly. “They told me you were dead.” 

“Technically I was.” Steve smiled sadly. “But then again, so were you.” 

Bucky nodded a little at this but didn’t say anything else. Meanwhile Steve was still feeling the frustration he had felt since discovering Bucky was still alive. As much as he wanted to push Bucky for more answers he knew he couldn’t, Bucky wasn’t here to be interrogated and Steve had a feeling he wouldn’t be able to handle it. Steve didn’t think he had ever seen Bucky like this; fragile and scared. Bucky had always been the strong one, the positive one but right now, he looked like he had been to hell and back more than once and was ready to give up.

 “I’m going to be here for you. I’ll help you get through this.” Steve finally said. “One step at a time.” 

Bucky nodded again, looking at Steve once more, his features softening slightly. “I know, only you can.”


End file.
